


Thursdays Are For Lovers

by Ltleflrt



Category: Supernatural
Genre: ALL THE FLUFF, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Contractor Dean, Cupid Castiel, Do not repost, First Meetings, Fluff, Love at First Sight, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 21:21:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3355685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ltleflrt/pseuds/Ltleflrt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is a Cupid who is assigned to find true love for Dean Winchester.  There's only one problem.  He's in love with Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thursdays Are For Lovers

**Author's Note:**

> I changed the name from Thursday to Thursdays Are For Lovers because reasons :)

Thursday was never considered an extraordinary day of the week.  It was never anything special.  It wasn’t the beginning or the middle of the week.  It wasn’t quite the end, either.  Almost!  But that hardly counted for anything. 

Occasionally a holiday will fall on Thursday, making it shine like something special.  But it was second hand glory.  No one really paid attention to the day itself. 

But Thursday was Castiel’s special day, and no matter how boring his brothers and sisters insisted the day was, he loved it.  How many Cupids were given their own day?  Or even angels in general?  Very few, and he knew he was blessed. 

He could admit however, that it was not a very busy day to be in charge of.  Oh there were plenty of prayers reaching him throughout the twenty-four hour period that he claimed as his own.  Prayers for good grades, winning lottery tickets, a tsunami that would get work cancelled for a week…. But it wasn’t the most romantic of days, and few people prayed for love on a Thursday. 

So he almost didn’t notice the one that came through on a completely ordinary Thursday, just before lunchtime in the Mid-Western United States. 

 _He’s just… sad, all the time.  He fakes it pretty damn good, but I know him, and he’s lonely._  

There was a pause, and Castiel sat up from where he’d been lounging in the grass outside the Pearly Gates.  The prayer was informal, but so heartfelt.  It tugged at him, and he was suddenly afraid that the person would stop before asking for his help. 

The prayer started up again, hesitant.   _I’m not sure if anyone out there is listening, but if you are.  Please help my brother Dean?_  

“Dean…” Castiel breathed the name out.  Someone cared so much for this Dean, that they had prayed on his behalf.  Those were some of the most special prayers.  The ones that asked not for themselves, but for others. 

Spreading his wings with a snap, Castiel leapt from his perch, and dove toward the person who had asked him for help.  Normally he would want to go straight to Dean, but since the prayer had not come from him, Castiel had to start by finding the one who had prayed on his behalf. 

It took him very little time to find the boy who had asked for his help.  Castiel landed, silent and invisible next to the table in the cozy coffee shop and examined the boy.  He was more of a young man.  He had youthful features, but a large frame that was just growing out of it’s gangly stage, so Castiel judged him to be somewhere around twenty years.  His shoulders sagged with an unseen weight, and Castiel wondered if their stoop would be eased if Dean’s plight were corrected. 

The chair opposite the young man, was empty, so Castiel sat gingerly on the edge, careful to keep himself and his wings incorporeal.  He had never slipped and revealed himself to a human before, but that was no reason to become lax.  The only way to prevent an accident was to remain ever vigilant. 

The last thing he wanted was to become visible and cause a ruckus.  That’s how stories about aliens, or ghosts got started, and he didn’t really want to add to the silliness.  His brother Gabriel liked to do things like that on purpose to mess with people, but Castiel would never.  Their father laid out rules for a reason, and Castiel intended to follow them to the letter. 

The young man was staring moodily at his laptop screen, his long fingers poised over the keys.  But it was obvious he wasn’t really paying attention.  A young woman with dark eyes and hair and a mouth made for smirking walked up to him, bearing a steaming mug of what smelled like tea.  Castiel could see she cared very much for the young man, and he smiled in approval when she laid a hand on his shoulder. 

“Here, Sam.  On the house.” 

The young man - Sam - looked up and gave her a distracted smile as he reached to accept the mug.  “You don’t have to do that, Ruby.  I can pay.” 

She snorted and rolled her eyes.  “You look like you need it after that blowup.” 

Sam sighed and buried his nose in the thick steam rising from the cup.  “I just wish he’d quit being so pig headed.” 

“Dude, this is Dean you’re talking about,” Ruby pointed out.  Castiel quickly moved out of her way as she came around the table to plop down in the chair he’d been occupying.  He could have shared the space with her, and she would never have noticed he was there, but he felt it would be rude.  “If they start making dictionaries into picture books, you know it would be his face they printed next to the word ‘stubborn’.” 

One side of Sam’s mouth quirked up in a wry smile and he nodded.  “True.” 

“And if he wants to wallow in self pity over an ex-girlfriend for the rest of his life, that’s his business, not yours.” Ruby pointed out. 

Ah, so Castiel would be finding love again for a broken heart.  That would make his task a little more difficult, but he was up to it.  He had never failed to find a perfect match for those who prayed to him for love. 

The fact that the subject of his mission wasn’t actually the one who had prayed for assistance did not give him even a moment of doubt.  Castiel had faith. 

“Yeah, except the rest of us have to put up with his shit,” Sam muttered before sipping at his tea. 

Castiel frowned as he listened to them speak.  Both Sam and Ruby spoke of Dean in a negative light, although it was obvious that Sam loved Dean and was only exasperated with him, while Ruby seemed to actively dislike him.  Did Dean really have such an unpleasant personality? 

No matter.  Castiel would find him a perfect match.  Someone who could appreciate his rough edges, and maybe even smooth them out a little. 

He was ready to start right away, but he paused to pull enough information from Sam’s mind to locate Dean, then spread his wings and made his way across town to where Dean was just getting back to work after his lunch break.  It was time to start getting to know the subject of his mission. 

Seeing Dean for the first time nearly blinded Castiel.  The man was beautiful, both in body and in soul. 

His physical form was… majestic. 

Spiky hair hovering on the border of blonde and brown, with red-gold highlights looked soft and touchable above a pair of sparkling green eyes.  From where he had landed across the yard of the half finished house that Dean and a group of other men appeared to be building, Castiel’s sharp sight allowed him to see the flecks of brown and gold at the center of each iris.  Dean’s face was carved with masculine lines, but the splash of freckles across his nose along with the long eyelashes and delicate curve of pink lips softened him. 

His body was large and built for strength, speed, and endurance.  Yet Castiel could see the contour of a soft stomach under Dean’s t-shirt, and the bow of his legs which enhanced the swagger of his steps.  It was a body built for building, creating, protecting…cuddling. 

Despite his shell shock, Castiel had smiled to himself.  He would find someone who would love to wrap themselves around that body as much as they loved Dean. 

But as beautiful as Castiel found Dean’s human form, it was his soul that left him in a daze. 

It was as bright as the sun, and nearly as colorful.  Human’s did not have names for all the colors.  Their scientists didn’t even know the spectrum of light held so many individual shades.  Each one spoke of Dean’s virtues; he was a lover, guardian, father, son, brother, righteous man, just to name a few.  He loved too hard, and cared far too deeply. 

Castiel sent a prayer of gratitude to his Father that he had been created as a celestial being, able to perceive such beauty.  He had seen many souls in his many millennia of existence, and Dean’s was not the first that shone with such blinding goodness.  But there was something about Dean’s soul that called to him and pulled at him. 

It took great effort of will not to reach out and touch.  Castiel had never been so tempted in his existence. 

He stood frozen at the edge of the work site, watching Dean and trying to understand the waves of heat and want that were pulsing through his own being.  He’d never been so affected before.  It scared him a little, but the feeling was far from unpleasant. 

It wasn’t until Dean ordered the others to go home and enjoy their day, and climbed into a big truck with the logo Winchester Construction stenciled on the side that Castiel finally snapped out of his trance.  He needed to stay with Dean a little longer.  He needed to learn more about him to find him the perfect lover. 

As he snapped his wings open in preparation for flight, he had the niggling feeling that he may not find anyone worthy.  It was a shaming thought because everyone deserved to be loved by someone like Dean. 

 _Even an angel._  

Castiel’s wings stuttered at the thought, nearly sending him careening into the ground.  He pulled up quickly and landed in the middle of the street, ignoring the vehicles that passed through the wavelengths of celestial intent that made up his being. 

Could Dean love an angel?  Could _Castiel_ be worthy of him? 

Sparks of want and need and…. _love_ …. flickered along the vibrating edges of his grace.   _He_ loved Dean Winchester.   _He_ wanted to be the one who made Dean Winchester smile and laugh and ache with passion and tenderness and affection. 

But he couldn’t.  There was no way.  He and Dean didn’t even live on the same planes of existence.  He could never reveal his true form to the human without blinding him.  He could never speak the words _I love you, Dean_ without shredding his eardrums.  He could never reach out and run his fingers over freckled skin without leaving fingerprint shaped burns and blisters. 

He knew all these things to be true.  And he knew one more truth that sent pain lancing through every quark of his being. 

He could not be the Cupid that found Dean’s greatest love.  How could he, when it seemed impossible to find someone who would love Dean with as much power as Castiel’s angelic heart held? 

His wings drooped.  This would be his first failure as a Cupid. 

Dean deserved a better Cupid than Castiel.  And if he couldn’t find Dean the greatest love of his life, the least he could do was find a Cupid who could carry out the task in Castiel’s place. 

With that thought in mind, he lifted wings that suddenly felt too cumbersome to perform the work they were designed for.  A mighty flap lifted him towards Heaven, but the trip was slow because he had never before had to carry something as heavy as his heart had become. 

His feet had barely touched the firmament outside Heaven’s Gates when a voice spoke from above his shoulder. 

“Uh oh, looks like someone sat on one of his own arrows.” 

Castiel’s head whipped around and his feathers flared out with startlement.  He relaxed when he recognized his elder brother’s smirk.  “Oh, hello Gabriel.” 

“Hello Castiel!” Gabriel wrapped one of his many wings around Castiel and pulled him close.  “What’s the matter little brother?  Do you not find happiness in love?” 

Castiel did not question Gabriel’s knowledge of his newfound feelings.  Archangels were the most powerful of God’s children and Castiel knew he could hide nothing of himself from such a creature, even if he cared to.  He sighed and leaned into his elder brother, taking comfort from the heat of his grace.  “Of course I do,” he replied softly, which was absolutely true.  Despite his sadness over his failure as a Cupid, his grace sang with the joy of his love for Dean. 

“Then why do you look like a kicked puppy?” 

Imagining what a kicked puppy would look like made Castiel grimace.   _Why would anyone_ do _that?_ he wondered idly.  “I have been tasked with finding Dean Winchester true love, but I am afraid it is an assignment I will fail as I am no longer capable of making an unbiased decision.” 

Gabriel’s hummed his understanding.  “So because you love him, you don’t think you can find anyone else worthy of him?” 

“Yes,” Castiel admitted softly, shame keeping his eyes lowered. 

His brother let out a snort.  “I think you’re missing the obvious solution, Castiel.” 

That brought Castiel’s attention back up, and he blinked in confusion at his elder brother’s smug grin.  Hope bloomed inside him.  If Gabriel were willing to assist him… “Please, Gabriel.  Tell me what I can do.” 

Gabriel’s expression smoothed out into something far more serious than anything Castiel had seen on him before.  It was almost terrifying and for a moment he no longer wanted to hear what his brother had to say.  But he held himself in check from shouting out his denial with an effort that made his feathers tremble. 

“You, Castiel,” Gabriel said in a solemn voice that Castiel didn’t recognize.  “You are the solution.  You can give Dean the love he deserves.” 

Castiel’s entire being froze for the smallest instance of measurable time before it began to buzz.  He couldn’t… he _couldn’t…_ Why would Gabriel tell him such a thing.  Castiel’s very existence prevented him from loving Dean the way he deserved most.  But this was Gabriel, one of the Host’s most elevated angels.  Surely his words held weight.  “Tell me what you mean,” he demanded, forgetting his lowly status in his eagerness to learn more. 

Thankfully Gabriel did not smite him for his disrespect.  He had always been the most patient of the archangels when it came to his lesser siblings.  Instead he pulled Castiel closer to impart his secret knowledge.  “How much would you give for Dean Winchester?” 

“Anything,” Castiel answered without hesitation. 

“Even your wings?” 

His wings?  He could love Dean, touch him, cherish him as he deserves… if he gave up his wings? 

They fluttered involuntarily.  What would it be like?  To not feel their weight at his shoulders?  To never stretch them to the light of the universe ever again? 

When he didn’t answer right away, Gabriel’s eyes narrowed with disappointment.  “It’s alright, Castiel.  We can find another Cupid for Dean, and besides only one failure is nothing to be ashamed of-” 

“I didn’t say no,” Castiel snapped.  When he realized he was glaring and spreading his wings in aggression he immediately forced them down and lowered his eyes.  But the fire was still in his voice when he spoke.  “I would miss them.  But if that is the cost, I would be willing to pay it.” 

A bright grin spread across his brother’s face.  “You mean that, don’t you?” 

“Yes.” Castiel’s voice was firm with conviction.  

“Well then,” Gabriel said, suddenly all business.  “We have work to do then.  You’ll need a past, and a family and memories.”  He pulled away from Castiel and spread his wings before crooking a finger at him in a wordless command to follow.  “Oh and a job!  You’ll definitely need a job.” 

“Where are we going?” Castiel asked as he launched himself from Heaven’s Gate to follow Gabriel. 

“To get you a life, kiddo.”  He answered cheerfully.  “And a hot body to seduce your Dean with.” 

“And you can get me all of these things with my wings?”  A body?  An actual human body?  Castiel shivered with anticipation. 

“What do you think we’re going to use to build it?” Gabriel called over his shoulder.  “Can’t create something from nothing you know.  I’m not going to lie though.  It’s going to hurt like Hell.  Are you _really_ sure you want this?” 

“Absolutely.”  Castiel has never been so sure of anything before. 

“Alright, then here’s what we’ve gotta do.” 

Castiel listened intently to his brother’s instructions.  He was terrified.  Becoming human _did_ sound painful and messy and horrible.  But when the time came and Gabriel’s strong hands gripped the edge of his wings, Castiel smiled because he knew without an ounce of doubt that the sacrifice would be worth it.

 

xXx

 

Dean hated Thursday.  In fact, it was his least favorite day, and he was quite vocal about it. 

Most of his employees knew not to ask him how he was doing on a Thursday because the answer was inevitably a curt “Ready to go home”.  They knew it wasn’t because he didn’t like his job, or because he didn’t like them.  He was just grumpy on Thursdays, and they had learned to let him sulk it out in peace. 

If asked, Dean could tell you exactly why he didn’t like Thursday.  The rant was usually loud enough to be heard all throughout the work site unless the saws were going. 

“It’s a useless day,” he would start, exasperation clear in every line of his body.  “I’d rather work on Monday.” 

If someone were to point out that most people hated Mondays, Dean would roll his eyes in disgust.  “Look, I get why people don’t like Mondays.  Nobody likes to go back to work after the weekend.  But you expect Monday to suck.  You go in with the expectation that the week is just starting, and you’re not feeling any anticipation for the weekend yet.  You’re just getting through it.”  He’ll pause and emphasize his point by waving around whatever tool he’s got in his hand.  “Mondays fly by.  One day is short when compared to the whole week ahead of you.” 

If someone asked about Tuesday the answer was simple.  Dean never bothered to do more than grunt the answer.  “Monday Lite, dude.  Monday Lite.” 

And of course if someone has gotten that far, they inevitably asked about Wednesday. 

“Dude, Wednesday is humpday.  Wednesdays rock.” 

No one ever asked about Friday, Saturday, or Sunday.  It’s obvious that those were the best days of the week.  No one hated the weekend. 

So what’s his problem with Thursday? 

Dean’s newest employee Garth heard him grumbling and made the mistake of asking. 

It was the wrong day to pose that question. 

That morning, Dean had arrived at the job site and found that the delivery of drywall he’d been expecting wouldn’t be delivered until the next day which screwed up the project’s whole timetable and left him scrambling to redirect his crew.  Benny had lost his footing while on the roof and had been lucky to get no more than some nasty bruising from the fall, but Dean had sent him home early and was now a man down, slowing work on the new house even further.  An hour before lunch, Dean’s ex had called him and informed him that he needed to come pick up the last of his things from her apartment, or it was getting trashed.  And then at lunch, Sam had poked at him until he’d talked about it which always left him growly as a cornered badger. 

Dean whirled on the younger man, brandishing a nail gun.  “No one thinks ‘hey, let’s hit the bar’, or takes the day off to get a long weekend.  It’s just there, and you’re tired from working most of the week already, and you’ve still got an extra day to go.  It feels like the week should already be over, but it’s not.” 

Oblivious of the danger, Garth prodded some more.  “Yeah, but it’s not a bad day, Dean.” 

Jerking the power cord free of the nail gun, Dean turned away and started packing up his tools.  “It’s disappointing,” he muttered.  “Nothing good ever happens on a Thursday.” 

Garth opened his mouth to argue further, but Ash put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head.  He’d been around long enough to tell when it wasn’t a good idea to poke the grumpy bear that was Dean Winchester. 

Dean didn’t notice the exchange.  Not meeting anyone’s eyes, he barked an order.  “We’re not getting much done today until the drywall delivery gets here.  You all can take an early day.  Don’t worry about your paychecks.”  Nothing good ever happened to him on Thursdays, but that didn’t mean he would make the day worse for his employees.  “See you fellas tomorrow.” 

He heaved his toolbox up into the back of his truck, and without a backward glance climbed into the cab and pointed the vehicle toward home.  Despite the size of the truck, the engine was nearly silent, and Dean pined a little for his car.  It’d been a while since he’d taken her for a drive.  Maybe since he had unexpectedly found himself with a few extra hours, he could take a short road trip.  He didn’t need a destination, just a direction.  There were plenty of places he could visit that afternoon and be back in time to get to the job sight the next morning. 

That thought lifted some of the pall on his mood, and by the time he got home he was actually looking forward to something. 

Not wanting to go for a leisure drive while covered in sweat and grime from the construction site, Dean jumped in the shower and got himself cleaned up.  He pulled on his softest, most holey pair of jeans, a ratty green Ninja Turtles t-shirt, and his favorite boots, because he might as well be comfortable right?  It was too warm for a jacket, but habit made him grab one on his way out the door anyway. 

The leather coat ended up tossed in the passenger seat, and the windows all got rolled down.  And soon he was backing Baby out of the driveway, singing along to Whitesnake’s What Is Love. 

He’s startled when there’s a loud thump and Baby jerks slightly as if he hit something.  His foot slammed down on the brake and he jerked around, looking first to the left then the right.  He didn’t see anything, but what if he hit a dog or something? 

“Son of a bitch!” He slammed a palm against Baby’s wheel.  “It’s probably a dog because it’s fucking _Thursday.”_  

He shut off the engine and got out of the car and hurried around the back.  When he saw legs - _human legs -_ sprawled out on the sidewalk he nearly swallowed his tongue.  “Shit shit shit,” he hissed as he closed the distance to the man who somehow ended up behind his moving car. 

The guy didn’t appear to be conscious when Dean dropped to his haunches next to him.  Unsure of whether it was a good idea or not, Dean reached down and cupped his face in one hand and patted his cheek gently with the other.  “Hey, man.  Wake up.  Come on, wake up.” 

Blue eyes opened and after rolling dazedly for a moment finally locked on Dean.  He felt speared by them, as if they were piercing through every wall Dean had ever put up around himself, and looking at the most secret places inside him.  All he could do was stare back, probably looking like a slack jawed idiot, because that’s certainly what he _felt_ like at the moment. 

“Hello, Dean.” 

The gravelly voice snapped Dean back to himself and he frowned in confusion.  “How do you know my name?” 

The man winced and looked away as if he didn’t want to answer the question.  He sat up and reached up to rub the back of his head.  He must have hit it on the ground when Dean backed into him.  He winced again and pulled his hand away, looking at his fingers like he thought that they were the cause of his pain.  He wiggled them slightly as if he was only seeing them for the first time. 

It was… kind of cute actually.  Odd, but cute. 

Dean was about to ask him again if he was okay, but the man answered.  “I am sorry, I uh… I found some mail with your address in my box.  I assumed you are the one they are addressed to.”  His eyes flicked up and he gave Dean a wary look. 

“Well you assumed right,” Dean said in a friendly tone.  He reached out to help the man to his feet, holding his shoulders until he seemed steady.  “So you’re the new neighbor, huh?” 

The house next door had been empty for a year.  That morning a moving truck had pulled into the drive.  It was still parked there, and there was a trail of boxes and furniture leading into the garage where an ugly cream colored Lincoln Continental was taking up most of the space. 

“Yes,” the man answered with a glance back at his new home before turning back to Dean. 

Dean waited for him to introduce himself, but the man was busy staring at him intently.  He was also standing far too close, but for some reason Dean didn’t really mind the invasion of his personal space.  The guy was hot with his bright blue eyes, wild dark hair, and squarish features.  He looked like a mess, which was probably from a combination of moving shit all day, and getting run over, but it was a look that worked for him.  He also stank, and the dark circles of sweat around his neck and under his arms told Dean that the guy had been working his ass off for a while.  But instead of being off putting, the scent made Dean want to lean in and suck in a deep breath. 

 _Down, Winchester,_ he thought to himself sternly.   _You just ran him over with your car.  Make sure he’s alright before you try to get in his pants._  The guy still wasn’t saying anything, so Dean figured he needed some prompting.  “And uh… should I just call you Blue Eyes, or do you got a name I can use instead?” 

He received a blink in response.  Then the man jumped slightly as if someone poked him, and he finally introduced himself.  “I am sorry, I just… you’re…” a blush spread across his cheeks as he stumbled over his words.  “Castiel.  My name is Castiel.” 

Weird name, but Dean liked it.  He also liked the way Castiel looked like a bashful teenager despite being a full grown man.  He was nearly as tall as Dean, and under his sweaty t-shirt and filthy jeans was a body that looked strong and far _far_ from adolescent.  “So, Cas,” he drawled.  “Sorry I hit you with my car.  Can I make it up to you?” 

“How?” 

Dean grinned.  Castiel had perked up with obvious interest.  “I could help you move your stuff.  And get a few pizzas for dinner?” 

Castiel’s grin was wide and dazzling.  “Yes, I would like that very much.” 

“Well, lead the way,” Dean said with a flourish of his hand toward Castiel’s new house. 

If it was possible, Castiel’s smile widened even further.  “Alright.” 

He turned to walk away, and Dean’s eyes dropped to his ass.  Several pieces of mail stuck out of his back pocket.  Dean grinned when he saw his name printed on one of the envelopes.  He could tell just from looking at it that it was probably spam, but he sure was glad for it at the moment. 

“Maybe Thursday’s aren’t so bad after all,” he murmured to himself. 

Castiel stopped and turned to him, waiting until Dean was at his side before continuing across the grass toward the moving truck.  His eyes were wide with disappointment.  And wow, he could totally give Sam a run for his money when it came to puppy dog eyes.  “You don’t like Thursdays?” 

Dean shrugged.  For once he didn’t start in on his normal rant about what a boringly ordinary day it was.  “Nothing good ever happens on a Thursday.  I mean, I just hit my new neighbor with my car.  You survived, and you don’t look like you have a concussion or anything, but that’s still a shitty introduction, y’know?” 

“But now we’ve met,” Castiel pointed out.  He stopped next to a ratty looking couch and turned to Dean with an earnest expression.  Once again, he was standing too close.  “Isn’t that a good thing?” 

Dean thought he wouldn’t mind if Castiel stood a little closer.  He shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching out to touch the guy.  Maybe later, after he’d made up for running him down.  He shrugged and grinned wryly.  “Yeah, Cas.  That’s pretty awesome.” 

Once again Castiel’s teeth flashed in a blinding smile.  “Sometimes good things do happen.” 

“Yeah,” Dean murmured, his heart tripping over something that he couldn’t quite define, but felt suspiciously like the beginnings of a crush.  “Sometimes they do.” 

And good things continued to happen every Thursday after that.  A first kiss.  A dinner date at the Roadhouse.  Hearing “I love you” for the first time during a commercial for beer.  Holding hands while watching Sam graduate with his medical degree.  Signing the paperwork on a new home Dean built for him and Cas to live in together.  Eventually, after a few years worth of very happy Thursdays, even a wedding. 

Now, if anyone ever asked Dean what his favorite day was, his answer was always the same.  “Definitely Thursday.”  If they asked him why, all they got was a smile and Dean’s wedding ring waved in their face.  “Pretty obvious, don’t you think?” 

But if anyone ever asked Castiel what his favorite day was, the answer was much different.  “Any day I get to spend with Dean is my favorite day.” 

Dean would blush and mutter about Castiel being a sap, but deep down, he felt exactly the same way.


End file.
